


Masquerade

by wraithsonwings



Series: His Design [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Canon Compliant, Clothed Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dark Will, Hand Jobs, Knifeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mirror Sex, Murder Kink, Murder Porn, POV Will Graham, Partially Clothed Sex, Post-Season/Series 03, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraithsonwings/pseuds/wraithsonwings
Summary: Will and Hannibal attend a masquerade on Halloween.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful beta, [Weconqueratdawn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Weconqueratdawn/pseuds/Weconqueratdawn). Your help was invaluable, as always.
> 
> [purefoysgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/purefoysgirl/pseuds/purefoysgirl), you were a wonderful sounding board. A lot of credit goes to you.
> 
> Thank you to all who passed on a word of encouragement. I appreciate the support so much. You may feel that it was nothing, but it always means something to me.

Will shoved his hand down the front of Hannibal's pants. He was unbelievably hard, hot and unyielding against his palm. Will gave him a rough squeeze and yanked his pants and underwear down to his thighs. 

 

“You know we can’t really be doing this now?”

 

He leaned right into Will’s ear. The feathers on his mask tickled. “Are you concerned that I won’t be able to perform?”

 

The purr on the last word had blood rushing to Will’s cock. Hannibal deftly opened Will’s fly to pull him free, as he placed hot kisses under Will’s ear, along his jaw and down the side of his neck. He stroked him so slowly, nimble fingers teasing, thumb brushing his slit. Will wasn’t certain he’d be able to focus under these lips and fingers.

 

“Hannibal, stop. You can’t…”

 

Hannibal dropped to his knees. 

 

“What can’t I do, Will?”

 

Will felt Hannibal’s breath against his exposed cock. He grabbed at the dresser behind him to steady himself.

 

“God, you can’t do that.”

 

The lamps on either side of the bed flicked on. 

 

“Hey, what are the two of you doing in here?!”

 

Will looked to the man in the doorway with his hand on the switch. He almost smiled. The feel of his racing heart changed. It drew his focus to the upcoming task. 

 

“The festivities are downstairs. You aren't supposed to be in my private rooms!”

  
  
  


_ “A Masquerade on Halloween?  Really, Hannibal?" _ __  
  


_ Will dropped the invitations back on the dining room table.  _

 

_ "If you really want him. This is how we do it.” _

 

_ “Damn right I want him. We get him, it cripples the entire ring.” _

 

_ “Then we walk right in the front door, in masks.  We'll never get a more perfect opportunity.” _

 

_ “It's risky with all those people there.” _

 

_ “I see a crowd in which we disappear, but if you're uncomfortable, Will…” _

 

_ “No, Hannibal. This piece of shit exploits children. The FBI was after him for years before he fled the US.  We have to take him out.” _

  
  
  


Hannibal stumbled to his feet, practically climbing up Will, and nearly tripped on the pants around his ankles as he turned to face the man approaching from the doorway. Will thought his drunk act was a little over the top and gave him a squeeze as he took him by the arm. 

 

“Sorry.”  Will laughed. “We’re going.”

 

Will pushed off unsteadily from the dresser and clutched Hannibal for balance. He was giggling under his breath. 

 

“Pull your pants up, for chrissake.”

 

As Hannibal fumbled to do so, Will tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up as best he could.

 

Hannibal was basically presentable when their furious host took hold of his arm to propel him towards the door. Hannibal shuffled obediently passed.

 

“Hey, hey, hey!  Get your hands off him.” Will snarled, reaching towards their host. 

 

He successfully drew the man’s attention and he turned back to Will. Hannibal quickly slipped up behind him and wrapped an arm around his throat.  Without circulation to his brain, the man went limp in seconds. Hannibal stared at Will the entire time, never acknowledging the man’s brief struggle in his arms. Will’s pants remained uncomfortably tight. He licked his lips and tried to catch his breath. The beast showed in Hannibal's eyes and Will wasn't sure he could resist its pull. He reached across the unconscious man and grabbed Hannibal by the back of the head. He yanked him in for a kiss. Will took a quick taste before stepping back.  Hannibal tasted of the champagne they'd been drinking downstairs. It was too bad they couldn't return to the dance floor. 

 

“You're killing him, Hannibal.”

 

“Sorry, Will. You distracted me.”  He shifted his hold to under the man's arms with a smirk. “We wouldn’t want him to die so unaware.”

 

Hannibal turned and tossed the man face down on the bed. He reached into the interior pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small black case. Hannibal crossed the room and placed his mask, vest, and jacket on one of two chairs by the fireplace. Will made his way to the other. They didn't have much time.  Will stripped down to his underwear and pulled his knife from his pant pocket. It felt alive in his hand, with the vibrations of lives taken stretching back to that first. Hannibal had gifted him this knife,  _ that life _ , to mark a birthday of sorts. It had been a year since they’d pulled themselves from the sea.

 

Will was so keyed up that it was a struggle to get his breath under control. When he turned around, Hannibal had rolled up his sleeves and knelt next to the bed. Their victim now on his back at the edge. Hannibal capped the needle he’d just administered. They had about ninety seconds for the paralytic to take effect. Will flicked his blade open and crossed to Hannibal's side. He tilted Hannibal's head to face him and was greeted by a smile.  Will stared down into worshipful eyes. 

 

“Wake him, Hannibal.”

 

Hannibal opened the black case and removed the second syringe. The injection was practised and Hannibal gave up pride of place at the bedside. Will knew he was returning the case to his jacket. Will leaned in to speak in the trapped man’s ear. 

 

“You won’t be able to speak, or move, even to open your eyes. But I know you can hear and, unfortunately for you, feel.”

 

Will checked the man’s pulse. His heart was racing. Will smiled. A comforting presence curled over his back, as Hannibal’s lips grazed his ear.

 

“Good.  You haven’t cut him yet.”

 

The man's pulse hammered now. Will cleanly sliced open the front of the man's costume, exposing chest and belly.  He pressed his palm over the man’s heart and softly dragged the point of the blade across his throat. 

 

“Where would you like, Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal pressed so close, they almost occupied the same space. Hannibal’s heat passed into Will, no more noticeably than where his hard cock pressed against Will’s waiting ass. Will shivered. Hannibal ran his hands down Will's arms and covered his hands with his own. He entwined their fingers against the man's chest and loosely gripped the fist with the knife.  Will relaxed, nearly sagging into Hannibal’s grasp.

 

“Well, there’s always the brachial artery.”

 

Hannibal directed Will’s hand along the inside of the man’s upper arm. Pressing the sharp knife through cloth, he left a superficial cut as a guide should Will decide to return. 

 

“Or,” He dragged Will down the ribs. “You could go for the belly?”

 

He pressed the blade in maybe an inch. Will felt Hannibal's tongue against his ear. 

 

“You know where that is.”

 

He dragged the blade farther down, leaving a red trail to the top of the man’s pants. 

 

“Or the femoral artery?”

 

A quick flick to the inside of the thigh, and he pierced only cloth and skin. The man was breathing heavy beneath their hands, his heart pounding beneath his skin.

 

“Or, you can go with the carotid.”

 

In a flash the blade was back at the man’s throat. Will gasped. Hannibal kissed over Will’s own carotid, open mouthed he took a taste.

 

“A classic. Always messy.”

 

Hannibal released Will’s hands. He wrapped his arms around Will’s waist, indulgent and protective. Will wanted to remain there forever.

 

“Your choice, Will, but be quick. We don't have much time.”

 

Will relaxed into the hug, calmness spread to his hands, and Will placed a palm on the man's forehead. He opened the man’s eyes, to show him the blade, and to see the terror there. Will turned the man’s head and cut his throat, blade biting deep. 

 

Blood sprayed Will’s cheek. He threw his head back to protect his eyes. Hot blood splashed across his chin, decorated his throat, and ran in warm rivulets down his chest. Hannibal flinched at his back, sliding sideways, and Will’s breath caught at the feathering of silk across his skin. Hannibal pulled Will closer. He curled tight around him, one large hand splayed across his chest, and bit and sucked and kissed along his neck.  Will felt gentle fingers chasing the blood down his chest, over a nipple.  Will gasped at the shock it sent to his groin. Hannibal gave his hip a hard squeeze, all the while stroking his scar reverently. Will sighed. The man stretched before him gurgled and died. 

 

Will finally glanced down as one final red pearl dripped from the point of his blade. He flipped the knife closed and stared down at the blood sprayed across the man’s face, his chest, where it had pooled in the well at the base of his throat. A few drops still fell from Will’s chin even as the spatter began to cool. Will dragged his hand through the mess he’d made, such a beautiful nightmare, then turned slightly to face Hannibal. Aside from his hands, and a slight spray up his arms, he was immaculate. Will pressed his free hand to Hannibal's cheek and smiled. Hannibal snatched Will by the wrists, coiled violence unleashed, and spun them around. He backed Will into the dresser. The sudden jolt made Will whimper. The plug in his ass coming back to the forefront of his mind.

 

“Oh, fuck, Hannibal.”

 

Hannibal turned him to face the mirror. 

 

“Look at you.”  Lust and heat in his ear.

 

Hannibal forced his thigh up between Will’s legs, pressing mercilessly against the base of the plug in his ass. Will slammed his free hand to the mirror. He turned his attention to his reflection. He saw himself through Hannibal's eyes. A blood-soaked god. The man in the mirror smirked. He was a beast let loose to play too. Will met Hannibal's gaze in the glass. They were the same.

 

Hannibal slid his hand down the back of Will’s underwear. He pressed against the plug, forcing it against Will’s prostate.  He was on the verge of spilling over. 

 

“Oh, god…. Hannibal, please…”

 

He hissed when Hannibal grabbed his aching cock, his large hand all around him. He couldn't look away from the hunger in Hannibal's reflected eyes, the consuming depth, even when he began to jerk Will through soft cotton. Will’s underwear was wet as it pressed to his sensitive skin. He didn’t know if it was just how badly he was leaking, or if it was blood, from spatter or Hannibal’s hand. He bit his lip hard and stifled a moan.

 

“Come on, Will.”  Hannibal purred right in his ear.

 

“Nnnng… oh christ!  Hannibal, please…”

 

He couldn’t stand the pressure, the deviant pleasure, that built inside. He rocked in Hannibal's grip, trying to speed things up. Hannibal gave into Will’s needs, let Will give in. It was only when Will came hard, that he broke eye contact with  _ his  _ god in the mirror.

 

“Oh fuck, Hannibal!”

 

Will dropped his head, to rest on his fist clenched around his knife. He almost forgot where he was, until Hannibal had him step out of his underwear. Hannibal gently cleaned his crotch with them, careful with Will’s still sensitive, softening cock. Will glanced over his shoulder to catch Hannibal's eye, just as he stuffed Will’s disgusting underwear in his pocket. Will couldn’t help his smile even though he still ached. 

 

“Please, Hannibal… I really need you to fuck me now.”

 

Hannibal yanked Will’s hips back, gripping hard enough to bruise. Will left a bloody smear down the mirror as he dropped his hand. He leaned against the dresser top, bracing against blood-smeared wood. It was sticky under his forearms.  He could feel the hard bulge of Hannibal pressed against him, every shift of the plug inside as it held him open, as it held him ready. 

 

“Damn it, Hannibal!  Now!”

 

Will nearly collapsed with a sob as the plug slipped free, but Hannibal held him up by the waist. Hannibal was where he belonged a moment later, stretching and claiming Will, fulfilling a promise made hours ago in their hotel room. Will clenched hard around the cock buried deep, his most intimate embrace. 

 

“Oh, Will…”  _ A plea _ . “I love you.”  _ A vow… I’ll always love you.  _

 

“Yes, Hannibal.  Yes, yes, yes… Always.”   _ His vow.  _

 

“Fuck me.”  Will whimpered. “I need you now.”

 

“Yes, Will.  God, yes…”

 

Hannibal pulled out quickly and slid back home, hard. Will had to bite his lip again to keep quiet. Hannibal really fucked him then, taking what he needed, what he was owed, what Will would never deny him. Will flicked his eyes to the mirror. His face obscured by the bloody smear, but Hannibal’s clear and perfect, bloody handprint stark on his skin, bloody murder in his eyes, an all consuming, bloody, violent love.  Will watched every expression cross his face, as Hannibal struggled to keep quiet. Will rocked back into every thrust.

 

“Now, Hannibal!” He growled.

 

Hannibal buried his face into Will’s shoulder, and bit his neck as he came.  Will felt him pour inside, joy and relief.  He quickly reached back, tangling his fingers in Hannibal's hair to hold him close. They both panted, gasped, in the silence of the room. Will was certain he felt Hannibal's heart pounding with his. He willed them to slow. 

 

“We need to go, love.”

 

Hannibal pulled free and slid the plug back home. Will winced, and settled into the delicious torture. He turned, and kissing Hannibal deep, tucked him away and did up his fly.

  
  


They cleaned up their faces and hands in the master bath, hip to hip at the double sink. Hannibal rinsed Will’s handprint from his face. Will was sorry to see it go, just so much bloody water swirling down the drain. Will was transfixed by the water dripping from Hannibal's lower lip, from his chin. He wanted to lick it from his skin, to see if there was any lingering copper. 

 

“Will.”

 

He started and was surprised to find Hannibal already drying his face. Will blushed. 

 

“Sorry.”

 

He finished lathering up to his elbows and rinsed his arms under the running tap. He then plunged his face into the half-filled sink and scrubbed sticky blood from his chin and neck. When Will surfaced, Hannibal gently dabbed the water from his skin. After drying his lips, Hannibal took a quick kiss.

 

“Let's go, Will.”

 

Hannibal took the wet towel to wipe down the dresser. They’d leave no usable prints. Will crossed to the fireplace, and the chair where he’d left his clothes, layers of black upon black upon black.  As he buttoned his shirt, blood soaked through the silk, invisible. Will could feel it, would likely feel it for days across his skin, the hot spray across his chest, still alive in tingling nerves. Will took a deep breath and released it slowly. He slipped into his vest, the blood would never soak through it, and threw his jacket on. 

 

He turned his attention to Hannibal, who was back in the bathroom. He dropped the bloody towel into the toilet and rinsed his hands one last time, before putting on his gloves. Hannibal pulled a jug of Drano from beneath the sink and poured its contents into the toilet bowl. Now finished his clean up, Hannibal finally joined Will. Slipping back into his vest and jacket, Hannibal tied both their ties. They were nearly ready to go. This was the part that made Will nervous. 

 

“Are you ready?” Hannibal asked, brushing his knuckles across Will’s cheek. 

 

Will leaned into the touch, and pat his pocket to be certain he had his knife. 

 

“Yes.”

 

Will picked up Hannibal’s mask. He brushed his fingers along black feathers, iridescent, they shone purple in the light. Hannibal had not been amused when Will had asked him to say, ‘Never more.’  Will smiled. The terrible joke was worth the look it elicited.

 

“Will?”

 

“Yes, let’s go.”

 

Will slipped it on Hannibal's face and brushed his fingers along his lips and jaw. Resisting the urge to kiss, he turned and scooped his own mask from the other chair. The round flare of an owl’s face covered his cheeks and brow, not a scar in sight. The chocolate feathers were soft under his fingers as he pulled it over his face. 

 

They crossed the room and slipped into the adjoining office. Shutting the door, they paused a moment to adjust to the darkness. Will followed closely as Hannibal made his way to the door to the hall. He checked that the coast was clear and, taking Will by the arm, led him into the hallway. Will glanced over to the bodyguard at the entrance to the master suite. He was on the phone with his back to them. Hannibal gave Will’s arm a squeeze. Will followed blindly to the far staircase, almost in a daze as they made their way down, coming out to an unfamiliar hallway. They followed the music back to the grand ballroom.

  
  
  


_ Anticipation was the core of the ritual. Anticipating the kill, the blood, Hannibal inside him, the high that inevitably followed, and it all started here… _

 

_ In the shower, fingers deep in his ass and hand on his cock. What had started as working off nervous energy, had turned to preparing himself for Hannibal.  What had begun by accident, by being overheard and Hannibal's offhand comment to ‘fuck him later’, had become a whispered promise. That ‘later’ had been so charged, that it bled through the entire experience, leaving its mark in his bones.  _

 

_ It became: the shower, the promise, the hunt, the kill, the blood and the fucking. And serial killers had these rituals. Will was no longer in denial. This was his design. _

  
  
  


Will was assaulted by the sights and sounds of a hundred faceless people laughing, dancing. They slipped seamlessly into the crowd, crossing the mosaic of tiles, Hannibal taking Will by the hand. The warmth of his palm a steady guide as Will’s gaze drifted, buoyed by euphoria, to the crystal sparkle of the chandeliers. This felt like a dream, the joy of the crowd pulsing, everyone anonymous, with a kiss of wickedness under bright light. A passing server caught Will’s attention. He scooped a couple glasses of champagne from his tray.

 

“Hannibal.”

 

As the man turned to him, he held out a drink. Hannibal took one and leaned into Will's ear.

 

“You seem quite at ease for someone who’d been terrified of making our escape.  Shall we dance?”

 

Hannibal pulled back to take a sip of champagne. His eyes sparkled with amusement.

 

“I feel good.” Taking a sip, Will gave it some serious thought. “But, no, we really need to go.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Hannibal tightened his grip on Will’s hand, entwining their fingers, and led them across the hall. They handed their now empty glasses to a passing server, before slipping into the foyer. Will felt an unexpected thrill of relief at the sight of the door, as staff opened it to allow them through. Hannibal gave his hand a tight squeeze as it closed behind them. A cool breeze sent a shiver through Will, and he barely acknowledged the valet when Hannibal handed over the ticket. As soon as the man left, Will pressed up against Hannibal to steal some of his comforting warmth. Hannibal wrapped an arm around him and pulled him tight.  He placed a kiss on the top of Will’s head.

 

“Happy Halloween, Will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> :3
> 
>  
> 
> Join me on [Tumblr](http://wraithsonwingsposts.tumblr.com/)!


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